


Gift of the Magus

by Book7BrokeMyBrain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror!Potter, Christmas, M/M, Polyjuice Potion, Prostitution, Secret Snarry Swap 2011, decorative bondage, sex-positive culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-21 00:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1531472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book7BrokeMyBrain/pseuds/Book7BrokeMyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three prompts: "Snape buys himself a holiday treat – Harry," "sex by the fireside", "Gift-wrapped Harry".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gift of the Magus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NecromanticNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NecromanticNoir/gifts).



> Polyjuiced young “Harry” is seventeen, we don't know how old the whore is (assume he's over eighteen)
> 
> Beta'd by Asnowyowl. Thank you! All remaining errors are my own.

Many people have a private holiday tradition they observe, a little treat they give themselves to celebrate the season. For some, it's taking the children to the pantomime. For single adults, perhaps they take themselves to the theater or a concert followed by drinks at a nice hotel.

Severus Snape's private tradition was thus: every Christmas season since the end of the war he'd been sure to put aside an entire afternoon and evening from his small, yet growing, brewing business, hire a handsome young man, and treat himself to a damned good shag.

He was a firm believer in hiring a professional if one wanted professional results. He was never disappointed.

This grey, late December afternoon, Severus closed up his lab in the dingy cellar of a Knockturn Alley warehouse, and walked, with what passed for excitement in Severus Snape, to Twillfit and Tattings in Diagon, to the notions department. He bought a few bits and bobs, then headed back to the social hinterland between light and dark, between Diagon and Knockturn, where the brothel sat.

Prostitution was not illegal in the wizarding world; that much wizards had over Muggles. It was their stilted Victorian attitudes toward sexual mores that kept wizard-kind from talking about it in proper circles. Therefore, Severus felt no need to hang his head as he walked boldly into Hortensia Pizzlechew's brothel and out-call service. He was shown into the office of the lady herself. He found her sitting behind an ornate desk, in an equally frilly yet modest set of lacy robes, befitting her advanced age. Her eyes crinkled under her steel-colored updo, as she recognized a loyal client.

“Mr. Snape! How lovely to see you again.” She stood and extended her hand. Severus took it gently, and bowed over it.

“Madame Pizzlechew. A pleasure.”

“Please sit.” She made herself comfortable, as Snape did the same. “Are you here to schedule your yearly assignation?”

“I am.”

“Such a pity you won't indulge more frequently, my dear. You deserve better for yourself. As much comfort as--”

“As I can afford. That comes to once yearly, I'm afraid.”

The old woman smiled. “I find that people who treat themselves well tend to do better overall in life. A self-fulfilling prophesy. Feel better, work better, earn more, hire more of my whores, feel better....”

“Certainly. Now, if you would be willing to start me off with a rentboy gratis every week for a month, perhaps we can jump-start the process.”

“Prime the pump for free! Hee!” The old woman cackled. “I'm afraid not.”

“Then we seem to be back to once a year, all I can afford.” Snape smiled craftily. “However, if I can convince you to contract with me exclusively to supply your potions for the House, you might just be the instrument of my increased wealth, health, and ability to hire your boys.”

She leaned back in her chair, assessing him with a gimlet eye. “Ask me again after the New Year, Mr. Snape. We have begun to offer a new service, and I find we are in need of a steady, reliable supply of Polyjuice Potion.”

“Interesting.”

“Yes. Quite. We can now supply Polyjuiced whores.”

“Polyjuiced into whom?”

“We have developed a deep catalog of celebrities from the arts, sport, and politics. Some have been paid handsomely over the years for samples of hair, the better to offer them at different stages of life.”

“Hm.”

“I can see the gears turning, Mr. Snape. Who do you have in mind?”

“How much extra?”

“This time is free, in contemplation of a future business relationship.”

“Very well.” His eyes fell. “Harry Potter?”

The old woman smirked and narrowed her eyes. “How young?”

Severus looked up sharply and cleared his throat. “How young have you got?”

“Thirteen, or thereabouts.”

Severus colored with quiet anger. “How on _earth?_ Surely he didn't donate his own hair! He was under our protection at the school!” He calmed himself. “Unless it was collected during his summers at home.”

“Actually, there were several smitten students at Hogwarts who collected mementos of The Chosen One over the years. They were remarkably easy to convince to part with their samples given enough gold. A Miss Romilda Vane was our best resource. Had lockets full of hair.”

“Yes. I remember her.”

“So...?”

Severus came to a decision. “I'd like him from the time of the final battle. Also, I'd like him from the present. Two doses.”

The lady nodded slowly. “Seventeen and twenty eight. I can do that for you. Interesting choice, Mr. Snape. Do you want your whore to bring the Auror robes for the second go?”

“Not necessary. But,” he drew out the little paper sack from Twillfit and Tattings, “I'd like him to wrap himself in these, under his clothes, before he arrives.” From his fingers, he unspooled a tangled handful of deep green grosgrain ribbons onto her blotter. “Tell him to be creative.”

“Seven o'clock, as usual?”

“Yes. Thank you. You have the address.” He rose and tipped his head. “Until the New Year, madame.”

“A lovely evening to you, Mr. Snape. Happy Christmas.”

* * * * *

 

Severus went home to Spinner's End. It was nearly dark already, yet still early. He Apparated into his small back yard, and let himself into the tiny kitchen. He started the kettle and laid out a small tea, enough to keep himself going all night.

He sat in silence and ate, happily imagining his Christmas treat to come, deciding on exactly what he would like to do with his whore, beside the usual. Perhaps this year, he would let the whore pleasure him orally. A frisson of lust traversed his skin as he remembered that this time the prostitute would look like Harry Potter. A young Harry Potter. Yes. He would very much like to see Potter's lips stretched around his member, those green eyes looking up adoringly.

His tea went cold as he daydreamed about it. He gave up trying to eat, and dumped the cold tea in the sink.

Severus went to the small parlor and set up for the evening. He made space in front of the hearth, transfigured a thick sheepskin rug to lie before the fire, and laid out wood to keep it merrily blazing all evening. He'd found he loved the heat of a roaring fire on his bare skin as he had sex on the floor of his childhood home. It was deliciously perverse – one of the few things left in this world to elicit such a reaction in him. Fucking Harry Potter would be another.

It would be a very good night.

* * * * *

Just before seven, freshly bathed, wearing a voluminous black dressing gown and nothing else, Severus moved anxiously about the sitting room, adjusting things. He crossed his arms and stood looking at his front door. He suddenly recalled the vial in his pocket, drew it out, and drank the contents – a stamina potion of his own devising.

He banished the taste with a sip of the elf-made wine he favored.

When the knock came, he made for the knob with alacrity. He swung the door open to find a gaunt, short, spectacled Savior in jeans and a leather jacket, apparently freezing his bollocks off. Severus glared in shock.

“Hullo, sir. May I come in? Please? It's cold.” The boy's high, reedy voice was such a jolt to his memories that Severus froze in place for a moment. “Professor?”

That one word shook him back to reality, and he stepped aside so the boy could enter.

“Your coat.”

“Thanks.” The boy walked around the small room as Severus hung his coat on a hook. “Cozy room. Nice tree,” he said of the tiny tabletop fir in the corner, twinkling with soft fairy lights. Severus couldn't take his eyes off the young Harry. The hair sample must have been collected after the battle, but before he'd been fed up to fatten him after the asperity of his fugitive diet. It suited him. “So. Where do you want me?”

“We'll stay in here.” Severus handed him a small glass of wine to match his own. They both sipped deeply. “When you're ready, please strip off for me. Slowly.” Severus reclined on the couch.

The boy grinned wickedly, ruining the illusion somewhat, as Severus didn't think Harry Potter had ever felt such an apparently raunchy emotion in his life. But he drained his glass, put it gently on the mantel, and slowly pulled his jumper over his head. His black hair stood on end with static, and only served to make him look as disheveled as the real thing. That was very good.

The tee shirt went next, revealing a torso criss-crossed with ribbons, biceps bound, forearms and wrists wrapped, navel framed in green as they encircled his waist.

The jeans were unbuttoned slowly, and pushed down thickly muscled thighs. Severus went a little weak at the sight. He remembered those legs from another cold December night in the Forest of Dean ten years previous.

When 'Harry' stood before him clad only in crimson boxers, Severus beckoned him to kneel between his legs. He took a moment to stroke Harry's face, brush his fingers through the unruly fringe (Harry'd got a terrible haircut somewhere), and traced the lightning scar with a trembling finger. He removed the round specs, then smoothed a hand over the sharp cheekbones, petting, stroking, finally pressing kisses to each green eye, his forehead, his cheeks, square jaw and, softly, his mouth. He ran fingers through Harry's hair, gripping him in place as he kissed deeply, nipping at Harry Potter's red lips, the boy moaning with pleasure, gripping Severus's thighs.

Severus reclined, holding Harry's gaze, and pulled his robe open, exposing his lap. His rigid cock sprang upright. The boy looked down and smiled. He gripped the shaft firmly, and sank down, Severus inhaling as the hot, moist mouth slipped down to the root of his cock and up again. He held that green gaze for several moments until the action of the whore's mouth made his eyes droop and his head fall back.

He tried to shut out memories, tried to stay in the moment, but it was a whorl of now and then as he fought his onrushing orgasm. He was about to pull the boy off his cock lest he come too soon, then he remembered that he would have at least two orgasms tonight. He grasped the nest of black hair in two fists and fucked his mouth, coming down Harry Potter's throat.

The whore took every drop, and licked him clean, to boot.

Severus slumped back in the sofa, boneless. The whore knelt there patiently. After a couple of minutes of blessed silence broken only by the crackling of the fire, the boy spoke huskily.

“Professor, if you want another go with this body, you'd better hurry. The hour is running out.”

Severus stirred. “Yes. Quite so. Stand up and pose for me, boy. And don't call me Professor again.”

He stood, hands laced behind his neck, arching subtly, showing off a pert bottom. “Harry Potter was very bendy when he was young. You ought to take advantage.”

“Oh, I will. No fear. First, it's time to unwrap my present.”

Severus pushed him back slightly to stand before the hearth. He ran an appreciative hand over the satiny, bound flesh where the ribbons cut in, then pushed the boxers down Harry's hips. He smiled when he saw that the whore had followed directions and gotten creative. He was wearing a ribbon binding around his hips, down his crack, and around his cock and balls, culminating in a tiny bow at the tip. He was half hard and the ribbons squeezed him nicely.

“Well done. What a lovely package I have received this year.” He took the cock in hand and squeezed and pulled gently as the whore smiled and moaned softly, wriggling. He kissed him briefly, because he could, then tugged one of the bows on Harry's chest. He watched as the ribbon untied, unfurled from around his torso. He stroked the pink lines left behind, then reached for the next bow, and the next. He unwrapped the cock last, kneeling and sucking it into his mouth, again, just because he could. The whore arched harder, maintaining his pose well. Severus let the cock slip from his lips. “You are prepared for me, I assume?”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

“Good. On your back on the rug.” Severus knelt, shrugged off his robe, threw the boy's legs over his shoulders, pulled Harry's bottom onto his thighs and plunged in forcefully. The boy's hole was very slick and tight; Severus's urgency was less, so he fucked him hard, but slowly. He changed it up by bending the boy in half, splaying his legs wide, grinding down, circling his hips. Their mouths were close; Severus took many kisses as they fucked, and buried his face in Harry's neck as he picked up the tempo. He flipped Harry over, and took him from behind, the sight and feel of that firm, round bottom all for him nearly enough to finish him off. He managed to hold back and fuck him through the floor, the little minx beneath him arching up and pushing back for more.

“Say something,” Severus choked out. “Just speak.”

The boy grunted out cliched Harry nonsense about Quidditch, and people-saving, and not-dying between rough thrusts. It was enough to bring Severus over the edge, barking out, “Potter!”

They panted together, collapsed on the sheepskin rug, the fire's heat keeping them comfortable as their sweat evaporated.

“Excuse me,” Harry said suddenly, jumped up, grabbed his jeans, and scampered to the kitchen.

Severus understood immediately what had happened. He got up and put on his robe and slippers.

Out of the kitchen, wearing jeans that were a bit too snug now, walked a Harry ten years older. Severus called him over to the sofa, and they sat side by side. The new Harry grabbed the afghan from the sofa back and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. The two sat and watched the flames for some moments; Harry (with a very stylish haircut now) leaned his head against Severus's shoulder and cuddled a bit.

The young man stirred eventually, got up, and refilled their glasses. He handed Severus's to him, and curled up on the couch again, even closer than before. They drank and watched the fire. Harry put his glass down and turned Severus's face to him, taking a soft kiss. Severus put his glass on the side table and returned with full focus, kissing back, tasting his fill of this new man, with new textures, more stubble, stronger features. He slipped a hand around Harry's waist and liked the meatier back and bum he found.

They snogged a while, Harry straddling Severus's lap, hugging and pressing together nicely, the earlier urgency gone. Harry broke the kiss and pulled back, leaning foreheads.

“Which do you like better, Severus?” His voice was still reedy, but deeper now, a man's voice and a man's body.

“I like them both.”

The whore paused, seeming uncertain if he should speak. “Can I tell you something?” Severus nodded. “I've been with a lot of men as myself, and several as someone else, now, but no one has ever loved me the way you just did. I'm jealous of Harry Potter.” He wrapped his arms around Severus's neck and kissed him passionately.

They went for a last round. Severus was rather sated already, but wanted to see Potter's body as it was now, and, being a frugal man, wanted to wring every memory he could out of his Yuletide treat. Harry stripped to skin and rode Severus on the sofa, reversing to face away at the end, to afford deepest penetration. Severus stroked him off, finally, feeling the man quiver around his member as he came.

Harry remained on Sev's lap, afghan pulled over them both, as he rested his head back on Severus's shoulder.

Harry spoke after a while. “If you don't want to spoil the illusion and see me as myself, then I'll need to go shortly. Not that I want to.” He craned his neck to look at Severus's profile. “I hope you ask for me next year.”

Severus wrapped his arms around Harry's chest. “If things go well in the New Year, I won't have to wait until next Christmas.”

Harry sighed. “I hope things go well, then.” He got up, dressed quickly, and fetched his coat off the hook.

Severus stood and grabbed a small purse from the mantelpiece. “Payment. Thank you.”

Harry tucked the purse away in his pocket, gave a long last look and a crooked smile, and went.

Severus left his hand on the doorknob briefly, sighed, and smiled in a rare wistful mood. It may have been a mistake to allow himself this moment of indulgence. Next year he wouldn't give in to his weakness and order Harry Potter. He was filling with regret already.

He turned, retied his robe, and set to returning his front room to its usual state. The sheepskin rug he cleaned with a spell and transfigured back to the braided rug that usually lay there. The green ribbons he gathered into a pile on the side table. He picked up the wine glasses and carried them to the kitchen. He drank a glass of water while staring at the wall, and tried to decide if he ought to just go to bed, or read a bit first.

A firm knock came on the front door. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he walked the length of his home to answer.

When he swung open the door, an irritated Harry Potter stood there, in full scarlet Auror robes and shiny black boots. “Snape,” he said.

“Oh,” Severus said, eyes roving up and down. “I did tell your Madame not to bother with the robes. Apparently, I was wrong.”

_“What?”_

“I like the anger. That's really quite arousing. Why have you come back? Is this a 'buy two, get one free' offer?”

Auror Potter's eyes hardened. “May I come in?”

Severus leaned against the jamb, arms crossed. “Do you have a warrant?” he purred provocatively.

“Do I need one?”

“Never for you, Potter. Enter.” He moved aside, and Harry swept in, scanning the room and hallway. He swirled to a stop. Severus advanced on him slowly. “Soooo. Is the righteous Auror going to rough up the big bad Death Eater? Interrogate me, perhaps? Bind me to a chair and make me talk using sensual tortures?”

“What? No! I'll tell you why I'm here! Earlier this evening I was walking in Diagon Alley. Imagine my surprise when I saw my seventeen-year-old self walking down the street! Obviously, something nefarious was up, so I threw a tracking charm on him and followed him here.”

Severus went white as the realization hit. “Oh, Merlin,” he murmured, clutching his robe tightly across his chest.

“Yes! 'Oh, Merlin' is right. I waited out there for hours until he left, except, then, he looked like I do now. Do you have something to tell me, Professor?”

“I told you not-- Never mind.” He cleared his throat. “No. Nothing to say.”

Harry stood there, hands twitching at his sides. He tried several times to speak, falling into dismay. “I-- I know what you were doing here. It's pretty... weird. I mean, how would you like it if someone Polyjuiced into you and slept with someone for money?”

“Ha! As if anyone'd--” Severus caught a fleeting look of guilt pass over Harry's face. “Potter? Do _you_ have something to say?”

Harry blushed. “No. Yes. I mean--” He ran a hand through his hair. He laughed quietly and stepped close. He reached up and kissed Severus softly. “Just-- I had some time to think while I waited earlier. Seems like a waste of money, is all, since we're both... you know.”

Severus gripped his upper arm and pulled Harry in close. “Since we're both paying a stranger to be the other?”

“Yeah,” Harry breathed.

“Don't tell me you're suggesting we shag each other to be fiscally responsible?”

“God, even that sounds hot when you say it. But no. Not just that.” Harry reached up to kiss again, but Severus pushed him away gently.

“No. Not tonight. I need to keep this separate. Too confusing. You understand.”

Harry nodded. “I'll go, then.” He pulled away and made for the door. “What are you doing Christmas day?” He turned, hopeful, for Severus's answer.

“Nothing. Here all day.”

“Why don't you come to the Burrow with me? You'd be quite welcome.”

“Absolutely not.”

Harry nodded. “What are you doing Boxing Day?”

“Nothing. Here all day.”

Harry brightened. “Excellent. I'll be back tomorrow to take you to dinner at seven. And I'll be back again on Boxing Day.”

Severus smiled reluctantly. “Very well. Until tomorrow. Auror Potter.”

Harry grinned as he let himself out. “Sensual tortures, huh? Kinky. I like it.” He started to pull the door closed behind him.

“Wait!” Severus called.

Harry returned to find Severus holding out a handful of green ribbons. He took them carefully.

“Wear the uniform, and wrap yourself up in these. Be creative.”

“I can do that. G'night.” Harry stole a final kiss, then ran out before he could get hexed.

“Happy Christmas,” Severus said softly.

He turned for the stairs and his bed. He trudged up, suddenly exhausted, but happier than he'd ever been. If he woke in the morning and this hadn't all been a dream, he would be shocked.

He fell asleep with visions of his new Yuletide tradition dancing in his head: unwrapping Harry Potter before the fire, in the twinkling lights of the tree and the warmth of the hearth.

 

-The End-


End file.
